Selfless
by Missy Jade
Summary: As David and Greenlee deal with thier growing relationship, Reggie deals with a return of his family to Pine Valley [WIP]
1. Aftermath

_AN: 'Selfless', unlike 'Love Story' and 'As You Are', will not be updated religiously. But this is my pet project, my hidden ship since the first day Greens and David shared a scene… I was looking over my profile and I realized that all three of my fics were connected to one of the main Pine valley families. 'Love Story' ties up the Martin and Chandler clans; 'Stand By Me' starts as a fic that connects the abuse victims of Pine Valley, from Tad to Maggie and is a BAM piece; and this, 'Selfless' is a Montgomery fic._

_This deals with not only David and Greenlee's affair-turned-relationship but also a Reggie story; I've been waiting for the writers to give us this story but I'm sick of waiting so I'll do it myself. Since Babe is not David's daughter, ick, he had no part in the baby-swap. Why? I'm sick of them ruining my characters to keep a plot going for a year! Plus, my favorite demented doctor is so much fun… and Vincent's such a sweetie in real life! This includes some adult situations, so be warned, if you read 'Cold', expect something like that in this. Thank you!_

_Only going to say this once, my lovelies… All My Children belongs to ABC and Agnes Nixon; if I owned it, we wouldn't be suffering through the unending crap of Babe propping and fake Rylee… gag._

_**Selfless:**_

_One - Aftermath_

The computer screen blinked at her, a steady, droning flash, waiting for her to fill the page with meaningless words.

All _she_ saw was sheets and pillows, her green dress tossed over the lamp, her lingerie scattered over the floor, like some sinister reminder that she wasn't at home. Ryan was so obsessed with her keeping her clothes up and off the floor.

On impulse, she reached up, laced her fingers over her stomach, where his head had rested before she'd finally fled, shaking and ashamed of those things that she had oh so happily done.

Did she still smell like his cologne? Like him and her and what they did?

The reasonable part of her mind laughed in amusement, reminded her that that had been two nights ago… and ten showers ago. But the part of her that had done those things…

_That's the point, sweetie. We got him, we had him, we enjoyed him, we gave him something to enjoy. Why shouldn't we flaunt him and his scent, the skin and sweat and cologne? You like that cologne don't you?_

She'd never believed in the whole collective subconscious thing, mainly because her good for nothing teachers had shoved it down her throat, not caring that she nearly choked to death on it. But now, years later, she was a firm believer.

The part he'd brought out… that part had nothing to do with civilization. It had to do with sex and hunger and the pleasure that balanced right on the edge of pain and that look in his eyes. It had nothing to do with fashion or cosmetics or what she wanted for her next wardrobe.

_Kendall said that once upon a time, she had that with Ryan. Do you hate yourself at _all_, Greenie?_

He'd woken up that voice, a voice to go with the thing they'd done, the _things_ they'd done. It was a voice that she knew she should recognize.

_Kendall…_ She glanced back, jerked her attention back to her work at the instant gaze of blue to meet her eyes.

_She knows, you know. Well, maybe she's not sure, but she sure as Hell has her suspicions. Of course, she knows us, knows us for exactly the lying backstabbing bitch we are… she loves us anyway, doesn't she?_

The woman cleared her throat, hid her face in her hands, letting her air out in a hiss. God, if Kendall ever found out… she'll win him back, show him what she really was.

_You know, not everything's about winning. That day, at the castle, wasn't about winning. Was about love. Was about what you took from her… from him. I don't quite understand how you haven't thrown us off the roof yet, really. God, you pathetic, selfish bitch._

Revolted at the anger in that voice, she dragged her fingers back through her mane of highlighted hair, part of her wanting to rip it out. She wasn't selfish, she wasn't heartless, it was love, she loved him and he loved her and…

_It's beginning to stop working, isn't it? This whole "poor me, I'm so miserable" facade shattered two nights ago didn't it? Took long enough, really. You look him in the eyes and see him, truly, for the first time, don't you? Well, sweetie, even if we somehow did conceive a conscience when we had him, if not a kid, you can't fix this. His own lies have sunk into that thick skull, convinced that you're the one._

She was the one! The mine—

_Oh, God, end this crap before it finally rots you through! We're not the one he's with at night! You know that! He may be in us but he's with her, damn it! God, we're sick, you know that? Especially if we can fool ourselves into believing this crud. And you know he sees you. But he had us anyway, and he gave us what you've needed for such a very long time, right?_

Greenlee jumped up, causing Simone to yelp in surprise. "Greens?" That was the voice you used for a crazy person. Greenlee glanced at her, at where she and Danielle studied her with identical baffled expressions. Glanced at Kendall…

Kendall Hart smiled, her blue eyes searching for that final piece, almost finding it before Greenlee tore out of the office, pausing only long enough to snatch up her bag.

* * *

David Hayward, cardiologist employed by Pine Valley hospital and regarded the world over as one of the most brilliant minds to ever pick up a scalpel, was not overly tormented by the activities of two nights before. Sitting at his desk, eyes scanning the paper in front of him, he tapped his expensive pen on it, dark eyes staring past it.

Okay, fine, maybe he thought about it a little bit.

It wasn't his fault she'd been so needy! Greenlee was a woman who needed attention on a regular basis, not some cheap, fake marriage with a man who spent ninety percent of his time moping after the woman he dumped like a bad heart! And, well, David had given her attention!

_Yeah, Dave… loads of attention… many times…_ Snorting at his inner voice—_damn imported coffee_—he rubbed his face, leaning back in his chair to stare at the closed door to his office. Absently, he clicked his pen thoughtfully, considering his actions that night at the homecoming party for his goddaughter. And, of course, Lavery had following around Kendall like a kicked puppy, unless she looked over, in which case he would pretty much rip into her about her stalking.

_And they call me a son of a bitch_, he thought with a twisted smile, pushing one foot against one of his table's legs restlessly. He bit the end of the pen, something he'd done since he was a young boy, and contemplated how easy it had been to read her. In that overly expensive piece of shit she called fashion, she'd been such a piece of work when he'd laughingly commented on her loving husband's loyalty… but she hadn't refused the drinks she'd offered.

Oh, she'd cussed him out for the disrespect he had for her husband but it didn't even sting. Greenlee Smythe, once upon a time, had been one of the few people who could actually make their words sting, but since she'd married the human equivalent of a tire iron? She was like a broken woman… the fire in her eyes was just a soft smolder, the heat in her voice was chilled and the proud sashay of her hips ha become a meek slink, and it made him sick to his stomach.

_She sure as Hell wasn't meek two nights ago_, he smirked, even though he was alone in the office. She'd reacted when his hand had settled, experimentally, on her thigh, feeling the marvelous heat of her skin through the pink cloth of her dress. Greenlee had never struck him as a woman who was passionate, at least not anymore… but… how she had reacted…

It had been a long time since he'd felt heat like that… and he'd enjoyed it, enjoyed the way they forced themselves apart only long enough to push off dress and jeans and shirt and stumble into the bedroom and onto the bed… heat and fire and a forcefulness beneath his hands…

Her pulse… beneath his hands… reminding him exquisitely of a caged animal, and he'd enjoyed the feel of the beat against his own… David, grinning slightly, pushed his chair back and happily set his feet atop his desk, pleasantly recalling the feel of her… _at least all that junk she coats herself with has a purpose, huh?_

The only thing that dampened how much he had enjoyed her was the sad fact that he'd probably never have her again.

* * *

Reggie was sick of being asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. He was about five seconds away from punching the next one who bugged him. With a sickened snort, the young man set his Coke on the table of J's apartment and leaned back on the sofa, setting his feet up. Bad enough that Dani was spending so much of her time with mama Mimi since she'd come back… now there was no one to go out with.

That sucked the big one in so many, many ways, and, like many young men, instead of just going to the movies or reading a book he decided to sit at his house and mope… and when the phone rang, he lunged for it hopefully. Maybe he should visit Miranda, he thought as he picked it up… maybe an hour of baby-sitting would—"Reggie?"

He felt his stomach drop to the floor, and was dully aware that jerking his feet off the table had sent his Coke flying to the floor, a spray of brown liquid to hit the couch and carpet. The first try to say something ended miserably, and he shut his mouth, trying again. This try was a success, albeit a weak one as he let out a single croak of "Mom".


	2. Haunted

_AN: I'm usually not one for overly graphic stuff, but writing David and Greenlee always makes me go kind of naughty. I actually have to take a step back and edit some of their stuff. Cravethesun, it's a deep honor to be reviewed by one of the finest D/G writers I've ever found. I have waited many moons for you to update, am waiting patiently, aren't I?_

_**Selfless**_

_Two – Haunted_

Greenlee didn't want to think about how bad her skin must look now, how red and raw it must look by now. Standing beneath the beating water, the feeling of heat lost a long time ago, she leaned her head back, eyes closed. Her loofah, dangling from limp fingers, had scrubbed him off her, but… what about those other places?

She let the sponge drop, stepped forward to lean tiredly against the wall, letting the water pound her back, where, after their heat and hunger had finally finished, he'd bit and kissed up her spine before letting her relax completely against the bed… where all she'd smelled was him.

Greenlee leaned her head forward, shivering despite the heat, painfully clear moments whispering through her head… how warm his hand had been when it settled on her leg, a shocking heat that gave her an instant start of excitement; she'd become aware of that powerful pulse between her legs, the growing tightness in her stomach…

She hadn't felt anything like that in years… it had hit her so fast, a need, a desperation just to touch him… and she had; her hands had gone to his face and… it was like a landslide, a sudden rush that left her entire body shaking, her breath coming fast, and she'd loved how the dress felt being so roughly pushed up, catching and dragging at her skin, followed by his hands, hot and soft but also rough, hands that had brought hundreds back to life, created potions that made a mind or body heal despite the cracks.

And, when his hands had found the line of buttons that ran up her back, small green and pink buttons, she'd wondered, _Can he fix me? Can he bring me back to life?_

It was crazy and sick and so, so wrong and… she wanted him again, now, soon, as soon as possible…

* * *

By the time David got back to his cabin, he had nearly lost his mind; immediately, he let his jacket drop to the couch, heading straight to the bottle of whisky on the table. Kicking off his shoes, he eased down onto the couch, noting with pleasure the way her scent clung to the material…

It always surprised him how much he hated when a woman overdid the perfume, when she lost that unmistakable, undeniable woman scent—twice, it had happened that he hadn't been able to take all the extra shit and he'd ignored the woman's advances… which, if you knew David Hayward…

Now, taking another swig of the burning liquid, he thought back with pleasure to the moment when, while burying his face in her neck, he'd been delighted to pick up another, more delicate taste of something different… it was softer but there was an edge there. Even as her heartbeat had pounded against his hand, he'd found the scent strongest at the base of her neck, and remained there, inhaling that, absorbing the scent for remembrance for after she fled back to her little life of unhappy homemaker and uncaring husband.

He wanted to know what that smell was, what the hell it was… he could convince someone else to put it on maybe… brown-eyed, brown-haired, someone who walked like she did… someone who lay in his bed, wore his sheets like she did…

With a snort, David rubbed his aching head with his empty hand, pushing thoughts of smooth skin and strong muscles from his mind… Jesus Christ, had someone drugged his liquor? Grimacing, attempting not to remember the way the folds in her hands felt in the dark, he took yet another swallow of alcohol.

Why shouldn't he get drunk? He didn't work tonight anyway, right? Feeling that this undoubtedly the best course for right now, he sat back, where she had been sitting just a few nights before and got back to his best buddy the bottle, savoring the way it burned all the way down… just like she did….

* * *

She hadn't expected Ryan to be home when she finally left the shower, so she really didn't give a flying fuck when she found herself empty in the penthouse. Shivering in the warmth of the heated place, wearing the warmest robe she had, she combed out her hair.

Sitting on the couch, she pulled once, twice, separated the strands thoughtfully, once again, then again, separate the strands… He'd played with her hair, pulled a few strands, let it wrap around his fingertips thoughtfully, enjoying the way it slide out from between his fingers… she had to comb him off… again.

She was in an advanced state of… something… she didn't understand it but everything she saw seemed hazy, dulled out, drained of color and life… when somebody touched her she'd either jump a mile or not even realize that someone was touching her… she felt like her battery needed to be recharged… like something inside her had split and she was just draining…

She needed to catch herself… needed to put all her pieces back together and fix herself…

We can't fix ourselves, Greenie… but he did… remember it? Remember the way he fixed us… the way he put our pieces back together… too bad you had to go running away before he could finish the surgery, huh?

She was getting pretty fed up with the evil-fucking voice in her head. Pushing her hair back, letting the comb drop to the table, she stood, found herself heading into the bedroom… dully aware of the way her skin chilled when her movements parted the robe, she found herself reaching up into the closet, her fingers finding the lump of cloth…

Hands shaking softly, she unfolded the material, her fingers stretching out the dress… pink and green material, the buttons along the back closed… her fingertips brushed them, unhooked one, parted the material… then another… stopped… swallowing, aching, she stepped away from the bed just long enough to shut the door…

And locked it down good and tight…


	3. Control

_**Selfless**_

_Three – Control_

_He left her when her shaking finally got too bad; raising his head from her stomach, he followed his instincts and touched her jaw line once more before heading to the bathroom. Stepping in, he heard the sound of sheets against sheets as she rolled over like some little woman, scolded and wounded… that wasn't his Greenlee._

_When he came back in, dried off, he had his jeans half-on before he realized she was still there. Straightening, he stood at the end of her bed, stood and watched the way she moved and stretched, the way the long sweep of her bare back looked in the dim light of the bedroom; she was asleep, in his bed, stretched out with his sheets curved around her like soft chains._

_Oddly curious by the simple sight of her, there, just sleeping, he finally gave in to the wild urge. Thoughtful, he climbed carefully up onto the bed, settling carefully at her side, stretching out, propped on one elbow, watching the way she moved with each breath. _

_For long moments he let his hand hover over her skin… then he finally let the heel of his hand graze her bare back; the sweat had cooled, dried and her skin was slightly chilled beneath his fingertips. It felt wonderful and, reaching the base of her back, he laid out his palm, let fingers stretch out, fingertips just barely brushing the curve._

_For long moments he enjoyed just the steady rise and fall beneath his hand, enjoyed the sound of the air entering and leaving her lungs… it was a perfect contrast to her actions just a few hours before. Perfect… she wasn't perfect, not nearly, but, once, like him, she hadn't denied that part… after all, it was that part that kept you alive._

_Every noise she'd made, from the hiss of breath when he'd bit down on her shoulder to that noise… these were all sacred sounds now, sacred and powerful and he carefully folded them away, slipped them into the back of his mind, between the sight of his father's body that morning… and how the blood had felt on his hands when he lost his first patient, Irene Owens, age 23, college student hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street to make it to class before she was late…_

_There was no sound other than her breathing and he enjoyed it, letting his eyes slide shut… the feel of her beneath him, easily keeping up with his movements… how she'd sounded when she'd finally collapsed, shaking, and let him curl up at her side, at least until she'd started panicking… these were carefully put away too, in an attempt to keep them untouched and safe from the outside world…_

_In less than an hour, he enjoyed these things, rolled the thoughts through his mind, letting his hands wander over her back, down her arms… he laid in the bed after she was gone, after watching her flee in her dress with its missing buttons from bed, while she fought to ignore his gaze… he laid there and enjoyed the carefully preserved memories, enjoyed them because, god knows, he'd never enjoy her again right?_

* * *

Kendall was off doing fuck knows what, probably screwing Slater like some rabid monkey… like a rabid psychotic monkey with eyes she'd kill for. What was she going to do, fall for him? It wasn't the fact that she was off that was pissing off Greenlee, it was the fact that she'd banged into him this morning.

Didn't she know better than to go into the restaurant? She knew his schedule, and she'd never admit _how_ she knew his schedule, and she knew that was where she always went for breakfast… he hadn't spoke… hadn't even smirked… he'd just sat there, plate of eggs and toast growing cold as his attention shifted fully to her.

His eyes had to be illegal… at least that gaze should be… he shouldn't be able to affect her from the other side of a full restaurant… but he had, and all she'd been able to do is sit there and grow rapidly, um… she'd finally snapped and fled—_been doing a lot of that lately, haven't you, Greens?_—out to her car, shaking and breathless.

She'd sat in her car for a good ten minutes, hands clenched, jaw tight, fighting back waves of what he was doing to her… her water bill would be big this month… she was spending so much time in the shower, scrubbing… and she'd spent another hour in there today, beneath the water, shivering despite the heat…

Oh, yes, that gaze had to be illegal…

* * *

It was the call to Chanelle that finally made him decide to make _that_ call. In the nicest shirt he had and with new jeans, he sat nervously in the plain office, annoyed at the stupid kitten posters on the wall. Stupid kittens… like little furry things could save your ass when you're tired and hungry and needing a good rest.

With an annoyed grunt, he pushed against the desk before him with the bottom of one sneaker, feeling the growing unease… well the growing unease was continuing to grow… hence… 'growing unease'… hmm… what was the definition of unease anyway…"Mr. Porter?"

At Reggie's rather murderous look, the woman gave him a slightly shamed look, touching his shoulder softly before heading around her desk and settling in, dropping the armful of files to the scarred wood; it creaked and… okay, a wood desk should not shift like that! Unnerved, he leaned back from the desk, watching as she quickly looked through his file.

She was the standard social worker, middle-aged, pleasant outfit, bad heels, and an even worse pair of earrings… but, like many, her heart was in the right place. This was why she was being so helpful right now. He listened, waited, and finally, "Trey and Jack made all the proper preparations so that at least will be easy to do."

"So… that's a yes?"

'Reggie…" A split moment of hesitation, a softening of the eyes but he jumped up, clearing his throat, and gave a low snap of "I have to go."

And then he was gone, fleeing down the halls and practically running out of the building, digging his phone out of his pocket as he fled, shaking but excited and hopeful.

* * *

She'd first learned how easy it was to sneak out at the precious age of thirteen. In under a month, she'd perfected the method… and that's what it was, a perfect method. Slip out of bed, get dressed, open the window and climb out, hooking her legs around the branch of the tree. There, hanging the bag off one shoulder, she climbed down effortlessly.

Tonight was no different than the last four years and, landing lightly with bent knees on bare feet, heels swinging from between her fingers, she took off, heading off and towards the front of the her father's estate. The car was waiting and she happily lunged into it, giggling.

Six hours later, she was struggling to figure out a way to get up the tree… usually, she didn't have problems. But, then again, she thought with a laugh as she swayed, she usually wasn't this out of it. She stood there, hair hanging in her face as she considered her predicament.

Her shoes hanging from her fingers, she threw one, in some absurd idea, and it hit the tree about five feet up, bouncing off to land in the grass like a knot of red leather flowers… _shoe was ruined… damn!_

Grimacing at the sudden lurch of her stomach, strange after how much fun she was having, she turned halfway, standing, deep in thought and thinking through things… hence 'deep in thought'… not that a few drinks would stop her! Forcing herself to stay on her feet, she braced one hand against the brick of her house and set off.

One step, two step… she grinned, cocked her head, watching her feet move… and then froze, raising her eyes and letting out a low groan. Okay, why didn't she sleep here? Yeah, here was… um, good… shaking slightly, she let herself slowly slid down, folding her knees up beneath her as she unhappily set herself there.

She was absolutely out cold in a matter of seconds… and she was awakened the following morning by the sprinklers going off. Sneaking back in with Tina's help, she managed to hold herself in until she got to the bathroom… and the toilet… at which point, and with much grace, she promptly tossed her cookies.

_

* * *

AN: Read and review! Hope you enjoyed! And, yes, of course that first part was some of David's naughty thoughts… did I get into his head okay?_


	4. Hate

_**Selfless**_

_Four – Hate_

David's earliest memory was of sitting outside his father's home, watching a mother cat and her kittens. It had baffled him, truly, to watch the care and love shown by an animal. If an animal could show such care, how much might a mother? He'd certainly noticed how cold his mother was, how much she despised when he tried to wrap his arms around her.

But, that day was the first time he'd realized that it wasn't supposed to be like that.

It turned out to be his first experiment. Yes, at the age of five, David Hayward made his first experiment. In some ways, it was not an experiment but a test, and Vanessa failed miserably. In some ways, the realization was incredibly painful for the boy, like a hole where something should have been.

And, yet, in some strange way, he had felt, for the first time, that he had been right all along from the beginning… Vanessa didn't love him, didn't give a damn about him… but, hadn't he known it all along, hadn't he felt it in the way she refused to treat with something more than the irritation warranted for some bug?

It had been proof for him and, like the smart child he always was, he'd finally admitted that his instincts had always been correct… no, the pain had never lessened, not really but he'd managed to deal with it, manage it in a way that didn't break him. The realization, when it came for Greenlee Smythe, wasn't as easy to accept.

Maybe it was because Mary wasn't quite as cruel… it wasn't that Mary didn't love her daughter so much as, in the more important ways, she just loved herself more— and Greenlee, even as a girl, always felt it. While David had made himself deal with the fact, Greenlee had refused to acknowledge defeat.

Even in her twenties, so much of her life had somehow come back around to how much she wanted Mary to act like a real mother. And, sadly, a part of her still craved, although the painful fact was finally sinking in a clear truth… even if Mary loved her, she'd always love herself more.

David, sitting back and watching Greenlee try to truth out, saw it nonetheless winning out… moments like this were what left it a glaring, painful fact in his mind that he couldn't help her through this. No matter how much he might like to, the actual act of stepping forward, putting his arms around her and telling her that it wasn't the end of the world was harder than it seemed.

But, then, he'd always been a coward when it came to Greenlee, wasn't he?

He sat in his usual mood in the office, like he'd been the last couple of weeks, trying to shake himself out of his own mood… a mood that had everything to do with Greenlee Smythe and surprisingly little to do with the fact that he'd just lost a patient, Harry Miller, married 58 years to his lovely wife, Lynn… he'd had a good life, gotten the chance to tell Lynn he loved her one last time before he went into surgery…

There were worse ways to die… and live, so why grieve for him like that? He'd talked to the wife, spoken to her about how he'd gone in mid-surgery, painlessly, just ending… she'd cried and told David that she had to tell the kids… There were worse ways to live… to go being remembered as a fine husband and wonderful father…

No, his bad mood had to do with the fact that Greenlee had decided to ignore his very existence by any means necessary… she refused to answer his calls, return his calls, refused to even acknowledge him when he'd dropped by to check on her a few days after the incident…

His entire universe was now focused completely on her, like his very balance when it came to day to day life came down to needing her somehow where he could see her, maybe touch her… these days, she was his very reason for existing, which, hey, that was a lot for her to do, wasn't it?

If he could just find some way to wash the Lavery muck from her system… find some way to make her the way she was supposed to be, before he got his hands on her…

* * *

She was good at lying to herself, always had been gifted at that little way of making sure you survive life, but this was just too much, even for her to hide from herself. She stood, silent, watching as her husband picked up Kendall's bag, carefully handed it to her with a quiet chuckle in her neck as he walked past her.

Greenlee watched his hand brush her hip, brush very softly across Kendall's ass before he left, glancing once her way calmly before heading to his office… she watched Kendall shakily take a seat, only half listening to Simone's mindless chattering… glancing nervously Greenlee's way once, she looked away, brushing curls from her face.

_Shit…_ With surprising calmness, she took a seat, feeling rather chilled as she set down her bag and clicked on her computer… _you selfish, pig-headed son of a bitch… I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…_

Movement at her side brought her attention as she watched, blankly, Kendall's reaction to Slater coming in, keys dangling from his fingers. She was fucking glowing as she began her immediate verbal judo with her husband… and he responded in kind, and even where she was, Greenlee could see his eyes sparkling.

And Greenlee could also watch, silent, as Ryan watched the two, face closed off as he watched the way Mr. and Mrs. Slater taunted each other_… I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…_

* * *

He sat, staring down at the phone, eyes riveted on the white plastic, biting his knuckle, blocking out Lily's counting of the shadows from the blinds that decorated the floor. Lily didn't even matter right now, not really… all that mattered was that Chanelle called back soon.

She said she would, she said she'd call back when she got back from school… Reggie shifted, ignored the stiffness as he sat forward farther. When lily happily chirped "Forty-three" his only was a grunt.

Frowning slightly, she studied her brother, cocked her head thoughtfully, before commenting, "You mouth is turned down, Reggie… is something wrong? I can go tell Dad."

"Nothing wrong, just… go away, okay? Find a book or something… I'm waiting for a call."

"From who?"

"Lily… please, just—go to your room, okay? Please? After I talk to this girl, we can do something, okay? But, right now, I need some alone time."

She clearly wasn't happy with it, but, making a face, she finally obeyed, heading quietly to her room… and he got back to his waiting, sitting and waiting for her to finally call. Damn it… how long did she go to school these days! What, was it an all-day class! When the phone suddenly rang, a shrill sound in the silence of J's apartment, he lunged for it, answering it with a yelp of "Reggie Porter speaking!"

"Hey, baby brother, calm down… you're as jumpy as you always were!" She laughed, and he could just see how she looked when she laughed… she was laughing, really happy laughing… "When was the last time she played some ball, huh?"

"Chanelle…" He hesitated, shaking his head before remembering that she couldn't see him. "I needed to talk to you…"

"It's true Reg." She sighed, and he remembered how her eyes always lowered when that relief filled her face. "She's… Mom's clean, Reggie and it's not like before, you know? This time is so different than just all those old programs… Mom's really done with all of that shit, she's… it's like she's all new again, Reg."

"How do you know it won't be like before? She always goes back, you know that! It doesn't matter how good she's doing, she always falls right back into that shit."

"This isn't like before… it's different. She's different… it's going to be different this time. She's clean and happy and we're all happy. I mean, I'm in school and so are the girly-girls… we're all happy and she's… Mom's really happy and she looks so much better than she did when we left."

"So…"

"She meant what she said, Reg… she wants to come to Pennsylvania… she wants you to be back with us, you know, like a family."

_

* * *

Once again, small update and, yes, I too wanted to slap Ryan silly! Anyhoo, I want reviews here people! This chapter goes along with the last chapter of Love Story, in case you're interested and this is what I didn't include in that little fic! Hope you enjoyed it!_


	5. Thoughts

_**Selfless**_

_Five – Thoughts of Her_

He was aware of how obsessed he was becoming. He knew that he was getting crazy, he knew that she was skewering his ability to function. Dixie had done that once, she'd wormed her way into his core and nested there, an image of bouncing blonde curls and beautiful blue eyes, a scent of home cooking.

He'd been crazy over her, and, even years later, he knew that she had been the first woman he'd ever really loved. There had been warmth and heat with Erica, yes, lots and lots of warmth and heat… but, in his only vulnerable moments, it had all come down to Dixie. She had been his first real weakness in his life. Oh, yes, there had more than enough in his life but that the first one he would really be able to admit to.

Greenlee had always had some spot in his heart, some little niche in the core of what made him David Hayward. From the first moment he'd spotted her, there had been a spike in his interest, even more of an interest in a woman that he usually had. He liked women and he wasn't ashamed to admit it, never had been.

He was a womanizer and, ever since he'd first discovered how nice it was to have a warm body when bad thoughts got too loud, he'd come to a state of perfection in the art of seduction. The smell of them, the taste of them, how their skin felt after they fell asleep and the night air chilled their skin just enough to feel beneath his fingers.

He had discovered the evidence of his obsession going through some of his old boxes on Leora's things, the things he had managed to hide from Anna before she had run with her tail between her legs to Paris. She'd tried to take everything but he was a master of making sure he got what he wanted. Before she'd left, he'd managed to get his hands on a good two boxes worth of stuff.

Last night, he's pulled them out of his closet, broke them open and hid himself among the baby books and pink blankets and little stuffed bunnies. And, there, at the bottom, he'd found the evidence that sealed the deal. It hadn't been a pretty realization for him and, in the middle of the night, he'd finally accepted the fact.

Greenlee Lavery was his newest obsession. She wormed herself into him and nested there, and, while Dixie's image remained as a softly defined picture of perfection, Greenlee was becoming a sharply dangerous image of imperfection. She was an image of perfect fucking imperfection and it was pissing him off.

She was a sweep of brown hair and a glitter of velvet brown eyes, a scent of manufactured scent that couldn't cover up what she was apparently so damn ashamed of. She was a curve of hips and waist that felt right and an afterglow that went on for a week. She was, in essence, completely perfect in his eyes and, that, of course, was yet another thing that was pissing him off.

So, basically, David Hayward was pissed off. And the nurses and doctors were scattering like pigeons in his wake, practically sending up feathers. David Hayward, whether you liked it or not, was the most valued member of the PVH staff. He was the most talented and best-credited doctor in the place and, while he had a history of some very unlawful things, it didn't change his record of success in his field.

And he had a good record.

So, no matter what the mood he was in—_and he could certainly be a right bastard when he wanted to be_—the hospital made the rest of the staff grit their teeth and bear it… even if they didn't want to. The only one, on a day like this, that could handle him was Joe Martin… which was why the elderly doctor was currently attempting to track down his wayward doctor Hayward.

The nurses had cornered him in the cafeteria, begging him to calm down Hayward before he ended up exploding and they had to clean little bits of Hayward off the walls of the hospital. He hadn't believed them until they mentioned how he'd dealt with little old Ms. Marlene Fredericks.

When she mentioned her fear of heart attacks, he'd snapped, rather nastily, for her to stop cramming cheeseburgers and fries down her throat. Needless to say, Ms. Marlene was not a happy camper and had fled to the nurses. The nurses had then fled to Joe. Joe was now on the hunt for the cardiologist.

And, there he was, putting his signature on several papers on a clipboard. As soon as his dark eyes fell on the older man, loathing quickly followed and, with a thoroughly disgusted noise, he snapped the clipboard shut and shoved it into a nearby nurse's hold with an angry bark of "Get!"

The nurse scuttled away, shooting Joe one last pleading glance before disappearing.

When David turned tail to run, Joe effortlessly followed, sensing even as he did David's quickly growing anger. He caught the younger man's arm just before he got to his office and turned him forcefully, finding himself the victim of a look that could have burned a hole in his head. "Fuck off, Martin."

Ah, so he was going to be direct. Keeping a firm hold on David, Joe escorted the head of cardiology right into his office, not wanting David's stress to be escalated by being confronted in public. Yes, the last thing PVH needed was for it's head of cardiology to be done in by a coronary triggered by extreme hatred.

Reaching back, he locked the door before turning around to meet Hayward's livid gaze. He braced himself, watching as David seemed to literally start steaming. "You may think of yourself as some high and mighty doctor but have you forgotten who's more liked by the board?"

"No." Joe smiled lightly, shrugged his shoulders. "No, David, of course not… I just wanted to talk with you. One doctor to another."

He just stared for long moments at Joe, and then, snorting, he shook his head in a movement that reminded Joe of an irritated puppy. His attempt to step past Joe was easily blocked by Joe himself and, twisting quickly, David got closer to the table, peering at Joe with those dark, dark eyes of his.

"This is my office, you hypocritical bastard… I do my job good and I'd really appreciate it if you take my earlier comment to heart."

"Believe me, David, after teenage years with Tad? You don't scare me all that much. You should have seen him then… always running off, getting into trouble… God only knows what he got up to during those few years that he disappeared… I have this recurring nightmare that one day, some young person is going to show up with a DNA test, insisting that they're Tad's long lost son or daughter."

"Wonderful… the twits in this town continue to breed like rabbits… you wanna know the real reason for the decline of the moral center of the nation? I got the answer. Tad's brilliant genes are spreading by the minute, rapidly creating a virus-like threat to the national IQ number."

Well, David was in fine form today, wasn't he? "Is something bothering you, David? I mean, you may be a blood-sucking bastard to the staff but you're usually extremely understanding to the patients." And it was true. His manner toward others was usually lacking, but his tenderness with most of his patients was excellent. He was able to effortlessly shift into an air of a caring father or close friend.

"Yeah, Joe, I'm getting sick of dealing with stupid patients who don't follow my dietary rules. I do my job and I do it well and I'm frankly getting sick of people coming into my office insisting I'm not doing my job good enough."

This was not like David. And, frowning, he studied David with more thoughtfulness. He was definitely stressed. Warm brown skin was a shade paler than usual and there were bags beneath his eyes… David was not exactly old, but he'd always struck Joe as one of those lucky men who aged with extreme grace, that time would be kind to him.

He actually looked older than usual.

"Have you been under any extra stress lately? Any insomnia?"

"Jesus Christ… I have Joe Martin asking me if I have any problems." He laughed, his usual deep-throated sound but there was, Joe noticed, a slight strain on the noise, a roughness not usually there and, stepping forward, he watched as David stalked to his desk and snagged a pile of folders.

Passing by Joe with a nasty glance, he snarked "I have work to do, Martin. I want you out of this office before I get back." Joe however, simply stared after him, brow creased in worry. Yes, David wasn't exactly someone he'd trust with his own health but that didn't change the fact that Joe found himself fretting and in full father-mode for the first time since Tad had finally grown to adult hood.

And, he decided with a sigh, that maybe he should just follow his instincts and figure all of this out?

* * *

Ryan was gone; Ryan was off trying to get Kendall's attention away from Zach and her new marriage. And, once again, Greenlee was left alone to mope in her loneliness. She spent an hour in the tub, soaking, contemplating her current issues before she hauled herself out and tucked herself into covers.

There she sat, on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the damn dress in her hands, staring into the flames of the fire she'd started. She needed to go shopping, pick herself out a new outfit for next week… she needed to get herself ready for the grand reopening of the casinos.

Yeah, she had things to do but the thought of going to the opening… yeah, just what she wanted! Zach and Kendall and Ryan in the same room… probably come to blows about who gets to marry her the next go around! With a groan, she reached up, ran fingers through damp hair, wishing Ryan were here so she could attack him with something heavy and easy to throw.

Plus, this was Pine fucking Valley! Watch and see, there was going to be an explosion or someone coming back from the dead or someone showing up for their own fucking funeral! Still… Kendall had looked so shaky… and she had promised to go, damn it! Which basically meant she was going to go… and she knew it.

But, she needed Kendall right now… and it looked like Kendall needed her too. So, that was it… she was going… still, things could be worse… David wouldn't be there, right? Why the hell would he be there, anyway? The simple fact was, he wouldn't be there… she'd be able to deal and function.

She looked down at the bunched up dress in her hands, studied the splashes of pink and greens between her fingers… the firelight caught her ring and she flinched, feeling a painful surge of raw guilt. She was married, as in, lawfully wed… she was bound to Ryan and yet… her thoughts were filled with that night.

Even when Ryan touched her… she thought of him and how his hands had felt between kisses, as they moved together, matched up in some way that she hadn't experienced in years… it had been so long since she'd responded to anything like she did to him… she remembered pulling his head down to kiss him and savoring the taste of him.

Fingers in his hair, fingers on his back, holding him as tight as she could, trying to keep it going as long as it could… as many times as possible… and they had, enjoying each other until finally laying in silence, hearts beating hard in their chests, tangled up in sheets and not caring.

And then, the realization had hit and, shaking, she'd freaked, panicked, finally managed to get herself to sleep and, the next morning she'd fled, run as far and hard as she could to get away from him… this was wrong… this… it hadn't been like this with Leo… she'd never found herself wanting someone else like this… this desperately…

She sniffed, curled fingers into cloth and raised the dress to her face, burying her face into soft fabric… she wanted David… she wanted him and she wanted back in his bed… god… she was just sick… and she just kept getting sicker… but that didn't stop her from craving him.

_

* * *

AN: Angsty but I'm about to make them hit a new plateau in the relationship! Wait and see! And don't forget to review! I didn't get any reviews last chapter people! I almost cried!_


	6. Lost

_AN: Hey, look, my favorite, smut-tinged angst, my favorite! Below are some of Greens' thoughts as she falls deeper into her ownrealizations about herselfand David gets an invite. Reggie starts keeping secrets and don't forget that this goes hand-in-hand with "A Love Story". This first part is a flashback to my version on Thanksgiving 2004 because, since David wasn't helping that blonde baby-napper, he was somewhere in Pine Valley. The lyrics used between scenes come from Puddle of Mudd's amazing "Blurry". The entire thing is like five minutes long so I cut out the choruses except for the one. The conversation that Greens is thinking about in the final scene is, of course, the "bear trap" scene!_

_**Selfless**_

_Chapter Six – Lost_

_Everything's so blurry  
and everyone's so fake  
and everybody's empty  
and everything is so messed up  
pre-occupied without you  
I cannot live at all  
My whole world surrounds you  
I stumble then I crawl_

With the key in the lock, he jiggled it a few times, sighing as he wrestled with the door; he snorted when it finally opened and he shoved his way into his cabin, kicking the door closed behind him. Tossing his keys to the desk, he locked it before striding to the desk and pressing the light on his phone, starting his messages.

"_Hello, David, it's Joe Martin. Ruth and I were just wondering if you had yourself a meal tonight. Tad will be eating with Krystal and the Chandlers tonight so we were wondering if you might want to come by and pick yourself up a plate. You can get back to me, you know my number."_

David kept his eyes on the bag that he set on the desk, pulling out his dinner of turkey sub and setting it on the polished wood of the desk. The fact that all he wanted to do was lunge for the phone, punch in the number and beg him to let him come over for something that might resemble a real family?

Nope… no… didn't matter… not at all.

He waited for a good minute and a half, waited for the message he wanted to hear and when it didn't come, he raised his head, frowning as he stared at the phone. The muscles in his jaw tightened, dark eyes showed hurt for just a second before he beat it back forcefully.

He reached out, grabbed up the phone and pulled it into his lap, cradling phone between ear and shoulder as he punched in numbers with more emotion than should be. He listened to the rings, waited, growing more upset and tense with each ring… when she finally answered, he sat forward, some part of him relaxing at her voice.

"_David?"_

"Greenlee… I called you earlier, did you get my message?"

"_Yeah—"_ And then she giggled, a sudden burst of noise that caused something like irritation to flicker inside him. He listened, face closed as she giggled and whispered with Lavery, talking about his hand somewhere on her thigh. It made that flicker grow stronger and he held in his breath for a moment, beating back the wild surge of hatred.

"Screw your husband later, Greenlee; if you got my message, why didn't you call me back?"

"_I forgot… Ryan, get off for a second would you…? Look, what do you want anyway?"_

It hurt and it shouldn't have; she would learn in a few months or years what it was that connected her to Lavery. And it wasn't love… no, it was hate and jealousy, it was the fact that Kendall finally had the one thing Greenlee wanted—_a mother_—and Kendall didn't deserve to have everything.

"I thought you might come by for a few minutes for Thanksgiving."

"_Oh… well, I can't. Tonight, Ryan and I are having a night at home… you know, alone."_

_With his hand on your thigh…_ David swallowed, taking a moment before speaking again. "It's Thanksgiving, Greenlee. A time for family and, you know, togetherness. You know this, don't you?"

"_David… Ryan is my family. Jonathon is my family and Jack and, yeah, even Erica on a good day!"_

So easy, it would have been so fucking easy to throw Leo in her face. But he cared about her too much, even when she was being a bitch like right now. He would be able to see, even without seeing, her face tighten and her eyes go empty and her voice shift into that broken waver that made him ache for her.

"I got to go, Greenlee."

She had the opportunity to ask "what?" before the line went dead and he stared down at the phone for long moments, feeling his heart do an odd sort of dance in his chest. When the phone hit the wall, it hit hard, shattering as bits of plastic that scattered across the floor of the cabin.

Grabbing up his keys, food forgotten, he left the cabin, flinging himself into his car; tearing out of his driveway, he headed for the hospital, where he was too important to turn away on a night when other people wanted to go home to their families. Yeah… he was useful and needed there, wasn't he?

_You could be my someone  
you could be my scene  
you know that i'll protect you  
from all of the obscene  
I wonder what you're doing  
imagine where you are  
there's oceans in between us  
but that's not very far_

He stared down at the envelope, considering the words written in flowing script and beautiful black ink… turning from his door, he headed to his desk, where someone would often find him working long hours of the night.

Dropping it to the polished hardwood, David contemplated, running a hand hard along his neck and then through his hair, letting out his breath with an explosive noise of reflection. He didn't need to and God knows he didn't need the stress of dealing with Slater; his new wife wasn't all that bad but him?

He didn't need the stress, not really and he knew that. Yet, here he was, staring down at the writing and actually thinking about going… and he had no idea. Or, rather, he had some idea of why he was thinking like some idiot with Lavery or Martin genes and he just didn't like it all that much.

His instincts were screaming to go. Not telling or insisting and trying to bribe him. No, they were screaming for him to pull out one of his perfect tuxes and go to the casino opening and suffer through any shit he might encounter because he _needed_ to. Why did he need to? He had no idea why he needed to and it irritated him… and yet, he needed to.

David hadn't followed his instincts at times and when he didn't, things got bad. He had learned it constantly. For so long, his instincts had screamed for him to take care of Vanessa, get rid of her somehow and he hadn't listened well enough, hadn't followed them and look what had happened.

Those same instincts had pounded at him not to let Leora get her chest opened, not to let even Joe get at her… it had been a constant roaring not to let her be opened and operated on, the knowledge that she simply would not make it… he hadn't done enough, hadn't stood his ground enough and now she was some little body laying in the ground.

David had to go to that opening, even if the entire night ended in him and Eddie Boy and Slater all coming to blows. Even if the casino ended up exploding or floating away or space aliens landed and abducted them all… he had to go.

He sighed and shook his head but nonetheless headed for his bedroom, opening his closet and checking the shape of his tuxes at the moment… maybe he needed to buy a new one for the opening? If he did, he might as well go and get one now… three days before the opening.

_Everyone is changing  
there's noone left that's real  
to make up your own ending  
and let me know just how you feel  
cause I am lost without you  
I cannot live at all  
my whole world surrounds you  
I stumble then I crawl_

Ryan was still at Fusion, eyes on Kendall as she moped about something going on between her and Zach. Greenlee had no idea and while some part of her wished that she'd just go and bug Kendall for an answer, she was just too stressed out and tense to put herself through that.

This hurt her a bit, made a part of her tighten up at how many things were now missing in her life. Once her and Kendall would be bickering and squabbling but still bonding over whatever was going on between Kendall and her husband. Now she was alone, shopping alone, eating alone, figuring out Kendall's strange little brain alone and wishing she wasn't so goddamn alone.

Now, stepping into her bedroom, she reached up, hanging the dress bag on the back of the door. Pausing just long enough to kick off her Manola's, she started pulling her blazer off, letting it drop to the floor and starting work on her top, peeling it up and off, letting that drop also.

She remembered being this lonely as a girl, while Dad did his things and Mom had her boys on whatever surface she could find and yet these days it was so much more painful for her to feel. Once, Kendall would have been here, with her, and they would have been feasting on bon-bons and Cheese Danishes.

Everything was wrong and it just kept getting worse and Greenlee was just so tired of pretending like she was happy.

Ryan didn't make her happy… their sex life consisted of Ryan grabbing her whenever Kendall was watching and shoving a hand up her skirt. Any other time, she almost didn't exist and he sure as hell didn't do anything to keep her occupied. Even before he'd decided that he still wanted Kendall, any times he'd decided to give her attention, it was half-hearted at most.

Ryan had, in simplest terms, not given her an actual orgasm in nearly six months.

No, she'd had her orgasms during her tryst with David, and they had been extremely nice; apparently all those affairs with his nurses had given him skill and he hadn't been kidding when he'd joked about that. She was still acutely aware of how well their bodies had worked together, how they had moved together.

Greenlee was married and she was bound to Ryan and yet here she was, sliding her skirt past her hips and down, enjoying the memory of David's hands on her back and how right his weight had felt on her. She was married and thinking back, all too happily, on her tryst with her brother-in-law…

It had never been like this with Leo. She'd only had so much time in wedded bliss with him and yet she'd never thought of anyone with him and she knew that she never would have. Even in their hardest moments, her connection with him had been powerful and so, so strong. It had been nothing like the hell she was in now and it didn't make sense.

She wasn't like her mother and father, she wasn't like Erica… she'd always sworn that when she married, she would keep her vows because they were _vows_. And here she was, desperately craving some way to get out of her vows to Ryan and get back in David's hold, into hands that had made her arch and shudder and whimper his name.

Getting to the bathroom, she twisted on the hot water, bending low to shove in the stopper; turning, she headed to the mirror, studying her reflection, staring at the way the black straps of her bra looked against her skin. Beneath her fingers, her stomach was soft and firm and she ran her palms up and down roughly, warming up the blood, remembering how his head had rested there.

She remembered being fifteen and desperate to be touched, held, noticed and seen in some way, hungry for any kind of acknowledgement; she remembered how many had gotten into her pants simply by saying they loved her. They had given her a few moments of happiness, a few moments of this utter joy that had erased how much she wanted to cry and sob and curl into a ball and die.

Greenlee couldn't hate them, even though they'd gotten what they wanted from the Smythe girl, because they had kept their promise in some warped, twisted way. She'd never thought much of the actual act, being turned off by how much she messed up her make-up and hair but it always achieved its purpose, and she ended up having those blessed moments of perfection.

She wanted to be touched right now, wanted it with the same desperation she'd felt when she'd been young and needy. She wanted to be touched, held, noticed and seen and it was getting stronger every minute, making breathing difficult and existing even harder. Closing her eyes, she passed fingertips across her skin, shivering slightly as she remembered the feel of stubble there.

It was so easy to flee the bathroom, dig her phone out of her bag and flip it open but dialing the number? He would answer, he would give her what she needed and wanted… he denied her nothing and had never been able to say no to her. He'd be there in a matter of minutes and wouldn't say no to her, wouldn't be able.

The urge was so strong that it caused a shudder to rip through, a harsh movement that made her groan softly and her eyes closed, the hand holding the phone clenching hard. A few numbers and he would be here, treating her like she wanted so badly and wanting nothing in return.

No. With a noise low in her throat, she shut her cell and stood there, not caring that she was wearing nothing but her underwear… it was so expensive, why not walk around and show it off? David would love it… he loved her in black and he'd loved what she was wearing that night under her new dress.

No. Shaking, she dropped her phone to the nearest table, and stood staring at it with wide eyes. No. She was married to Ryan… she had vows to follow, a marriage to stay loyal to… Ryan didn't make her react, make her arch and shudder and whimper his name… he didn't look at her the way David had, the way David looked at her whenever he could get her alone and try to talk to her before she bolted in her heels and dresses and beautiful hair.

No. Turning, she fled, slamming the bathroom door behind and leaning against it, panting, eyes on the steaming water in the tub. She moved away from the door, shut the water off and stared down at her bath, stared down into the depths of the water, studying the way it looked when it finally stopped rippling.

Perfect, steam softly rising in curls of pale gray, twisting and curving before fading from view; spinning, she stood with feet legs spread, feet pressed flat against the tile of Ryan's bathroom floor, studying her reflection or trying to through the steam on the mirror. It was all blurry, she saw with a sudden clarity.

Her reflection was all blurry because she was all blurry… she reached out, touched glass, ran fingers through what looked like solid mist, biting her lip. Even more blurry than before… she wanted David and she couldn't have him. So much and so badly it hurt and it did, a pain in the deepest parts of herself that made her shiver even in the wet heat of the steam-field bathroom.

No… she was shaking as she eased into the water, skin trembling at the heat and she inhaled softly when she finally stilled, shivering as she adjusted… this was better… she didn't need David, she didn't want him… she had never thought of him like that and she had never wondered those things before that night… she'd never wanted him before that night… never…

_You could be my someone  
you could be my scene  
you know that i will save you  
from all of the unclean  
I wonder what you're doing  
I wonder where you are  
There's oceans in between us  
but that's not very far_

Alana Porter had been seventeen when she'd had her first child, a daughter she'd named Chanelle and, within two years, she'd had her son, Reginald and he'd always suspect that she'd named him that just to get back at him for ruining her affair with the banker who'd lost interest when she'd grown herself an extra pooch.

Alana Porter was not a good mother and her children could testify to that. Her oldest daughter, Chanelle, had intense problems that stemmed from her neglect growing up, problems that remained as pale marks across her arms even after she'd come to terms with her issues.

Reginald had gone the other way, acting out and dealing. The fact that he'd grown up getting the good stuff for his mother so she didn't get arrested made it even easier and he had no problems getting the few dealers in Pine Valley to trust that he wouldn't rat them all out.

The fact was, very few people in Pine Valley, Pennsylvania really thought about the street kids and it showed in the steadily increasing number so gang-related activity and dealing. Derek Frye and Olivia Frye-Cudahy simply could only do so much and Jackson Montgomery could do even less, seeing as even fewer of the kids they brought in trusted the rich D.A.

The most good he had ever done was to take in Reginald Porter a few years before and finally give him a family that consisted of more than a group of people struggling to survive and deal with how much of their life didn't make sense. Reggie's life was finally, finally beginning to make sense and having Alana call him up and announce that she wanted back into his life was slowly breaking it all back down.

With Jack dealing with Erica's fake mental breakdown, he was left scrambling for something to hold onto. His attempts to get a hold of Bianca and Maggie left him feeling even more desperate and he turned to Dani, but she was stuck at Fusion, helping Simone with the next marketing campaign… the fact that it looked more like them giggling over Ethan Ramsey had absolutely nothing to do with the irritation he felt inside.

Now, he sat staring down at the plate of burger and fries that sat before him, growing cold as he stared at it; he poked at it every so often with a fork, eyes intense and not really seeing the meat and cheese and wilting lettuce. More than anything, he wanted to talk with Mags, but she was off with Jonboy, bonding happily with the weirdo. And, hey, Jamie was off with that blonde bitch while JR mourned for his kid.

"_I'm clean, baby and I wish you would believe me about this because I love you and I want us to be a family again… the kind of family we were supposed to be before… they said I could, if you let me."_

Throwing down the fork, he rested his head in his hands, sighing in exhaustion and wishing he had some Tylenol for this headache. Standing, knowing he wouldn't be able to eat this, he took the plate to another table, set it down and left the restaurant, heading down the sidewalk and trying to prepare himself for telling Jack that his Mom was coming back to town with his sisters.

_Nobody told me what you thought  
nobody told me what to say  
everyone showed you where to turn  
told you when to runaway  
nobody told you where to hide  
nobody told you what to say  
everyone showed you where to turn  
showed you when to runaway_

She was not in good shape and she leaned her weight against her sink, feeling cold porcelain beneath her arms and hands and breathing slowly and carefully. Raising her head, she studied the face, rubbing it as she did to bring in some color. Grimacing at the sight of the paleness, she opened the cabinet, started pulling out make-up and soaps and gels, snorting as she did.

In her pale blue tank top and sleeping shorts, she started her work, washing off her face and drying it, the feel of cold water waking her completely. When she left her bathroom, peeling her tank off over her head, she was fully alert and stepping lightly on the balls of her feet.

She was good at dealing with the mornings after and, not at all bothered by the way her clothes had been thrown around, she stepped to her drawer, pulled out a bra and snapped it on, turning to the closet and pulling out an outfit she hadn't worn yet; dropping it to the bed, she dressed and started her hair, easily managing the fall of dark tresses, taming them into a fashionable sweep of dark color.

Okay… she was good… sometimes the comedown could be a bitch but she was getting used to it now… smirking to her reflection and still savoring the few moments of joy he'd given her last night in the corner of the club, she left, bouncing down the stairs… she was a survivor…

"Autumn! Get down here now; I have a meeting with Montgomery about that brat of his!"

Not at all bothered, she approached him where he stood by the door, staring at her with annoyance… sweeping past him, she dove into the car, watching him climb in and offering him a grin that he completely ignored. Her grin wilted the smallest bit before it returned with even more glee. Fine… he wanted to ignore her… let's see him ignore the next meeting with Montgomery about Blondie.

_Can you take it all away  
can you take it all away  
well ya shoved it in my face  
this pain you gave to me  
Can you take it all away  
can you take it all away  
well ya shoved it my face_

And Greenlee laid in her tub, staring up at her ceiling through the warm water, breath beginning to burn in her lungs but still unmoving. Arms crossed over her breasts, she lay in silence and stillness, and she watched how the water shifted above her, the slightest blurring of her sight.

_David's hands on her breasts and her stomach, on her shoulders and back, roaming across her skin and his mouth on her neck and her jaw line… their hips moving together in that perfect rhythm that she'd wanted for so long, after all those times looking at him and wondering if he ever wondered about her…_

Too much pain in her lungs, in her chest, and she could see a few strands of her hair float before her sight, the first real change in her vision in what felt like hours. She exhaled the smallest bit, watched the sight of the ceiling blur even more and studied it finally fall calm again.

When they'd finally finished their lovemaking and he'd looked at her in that way that made her ache inside… he hadn't wanted her, and she'd given him that chance, that night, tried to see if she was right about the way he sometimes looked at her, about the way she felt when he glanced at her in that way with that something slipping out.

He'd told her as good as no… told her that love wasn't worth it… he'd given her his answer and made it clear without saying the words… she wasn't worth the risk… she couldn't hate him for that, not really… he was still recovering from the last blows to his heart, still licking his wounds over that bitch who'd run off to the City of Lights while he died a little bit more inside…

Bitch… her feelings for Anna ran deep and she closed her eyes for a moment, easing the rage that flared through her veins… had to calm down… and she did, thinking back again on how he had touched her like she was something sacred and wanted and needed and she was the only one he wanted…

When she finally burst up from the water, dragging in deep breaths, her skin was burning with his touch and, if she had the phone there, with her, she'd be calling him… and she'd spend the rest of the day enjoying the way he touched her like she was sacred and wanted and needed…

But she wasn't holding the phone… Sitting up, hair plastered to her face and neck, stuck to her breasts and back, she waited, contemplating how hard it was to get out of the tub and go call him… she took in a breath, held it in and slipped back down, down into water that burned her skin and down into memories of how his hands burned her skin the same way.


	7. Good

_AN: Remember that this goes hand in hand with "Love Story" and that plot basically revolves around the idea that JR didn't find out his son was alive until mid-way or so through 2005. David and Brooke know nothing about the baby-swappers nasty little games and Tad and Bianca are the two in Pine Valley who know the truth._

_Some might be wondering why I'm bringing up Dixie as more than just a side-note to "Love Story" so let me explain. I am a huge T&D fan so I never really liked her personal relationship with David but their chemistry was there and I always got the feeling that he truly, deeply loved Dixie and he told her things he never told anyone else. She will be a part of how he and Greens figure out what they have together and his caring and loyalty for the Dixie-bird will become important when the Chandlers set out to get back JR's son._

_Anyway, review and tell me, as always, if I got into their heads all right!_

**

* * *

Selfless**

_Seven – Good_

_When the day is done  
And the world is sleeping  
And the moon is on its way to shine  
When your friends are gone  
You thought were so worth keeping  
You feel you don't belong  
And you don't know why _

And everytime you hear the rolling thunder  
You turn around before the lightening strikes  
And does it ever make you stop and wonder  
If all your good times pass you by

When the day is done  
And the world is sleeping  
And the moon is on its way to shine  
When your friends are gone  
You thought were so worth keeping  
You feel you don't belong  
Neither do I

_-Sheryl Crow, "Good is Good"_

She woke to a migraine and, swallowing two extra-strength Tylenol, she left her empty home and headed to work, once again finding that Kendall was nowhere to be found. Forcing back her urge to get in the car and track down the newlywed wherever she was hiding, Greenlee instead decided to focus on her work, at least as well as she could with the headache in the back of her mind.

She focused on her task, shedding her blazer and her shoes as the minute as faded into hours and the time ticked away. She had one conversation with Simone about her date with Ethan that Kendall had set up and then been forced to listen to an hour of Dani's worries about Reggie's mental state and Greens had only answered that conversation, every so often, with a 'yeah, yeah' or a 'uh-huh'.

Some part of her, upon absorbing the younger woman's worries, was worried herself. Whether or not she enjoyed her twisted family, Reggie was her younger brother and, while she didn't know him as much as she should—hell, she usually dodged him when it looked like he wanted something—she found a tingle of something like fear for the young man.

She had finally accepted with extreme depression that she would never get the chance to forget about what she and David had done the night of Miranda's Welcome Home party. She was clearly even more messed up and twisted than she had thought she was and the fact that she was still thinking of these things was proof of that.

She fiddled with the ends of her hair, twisted her ankles and stared down at the decorations on her ring finger, hating them and hating that she had been so damn excited to put them on, so damn excited to hurt Kendall like that and know that she had what Kendall wanted. It had been twisted and she'd seen it even then, seen it as she said her vows, knowing that Kendall was watching and breaking.

It had made her giddy, so excited and so happy about doing it, about being the one who had finally won and she had, she had won what Kendall wanted most, she had won Ryan, she had been the one to deal that final blow to their always strained but once powerful connection and then she'd sauntered around and rubbed salt in the wound on a daily basis.

And Kendall had finally broke, had finally given up and given in and even when she smiled at Greenlee, laughed and played along, there was no warmth, there was nothing but an emptiness in her gaze and her smile and her voice, a ruined, hollowed quality that Greenlee had savored until the day that she woke up and saw that emptiness when she had looked into the mirror.

They had lost, both of them, and Greenlee had no idea what to do; she couldn't apologize because how exactly do you apologize for stealing another woman's man when she was grieving for her niece and trying to deal with her mother's abandonment yet again? What, was she supposed to give Kendall a pat on the back, hand the other woman the wedding ring that was rightfully hers and say 'hey, really sorry about all the pain and agony I've been putting you through… wanna go get some bon-bons?'

Greenlee highly doubted that that would work in any strange and disturbing way… and would she really want it to, really? She didn't want to be forgiven, she didn't deserve it, and she never would. No, she deserved to be hated, deserved to be vilified and yet she wasn't. No, the whole town treated her like a saint and treated her twisted, fucked-up marriage like some all-holy connection.

Greenlee had had periods of self-hatred before, quite often, but this was unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. It was over-whelming, a smothering feeling of deep disgust, something that made her stomach turn when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She deserved to be hated, deserved to be looked at like she meant nothing but she wanted to be touched.

She wanted to be seen and touched by someone who didn't call her saint, she couldn't take it anymore and all it did was make it harder and harder to breathe. She needed to be touched by someone who saw her flaws and didn't care, someone who loved her for her imperfections and called her on it when she was being a bitch.

Leo had done that; no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he needed her, he had never hesitated to call her on it and, god, it had always meant so much to her, that he could be so honest with her and have faith that she wouldn't just lose it at him. And she didn't have that anymore and there was still confusion as to why she didn't have it anymore.

She dropped her hand forcefully, feeling the small band of metal as an impossibly massive weight that was shockingly cold, that froze the skin beneath it and made the ring an always felt presence that she wished desperately she could get away from, get rid of it once and for all and she knew, for sure, that she was trapped in Hell.

When Simone slapped a paper down on her desk, Greenlee gave a startled shriek, and her jump almost sent her chair rolling back into some heavy object that could have possibly killed her. She snatched up the paper, shook it angrily and was about to throw the paper at the other woman before she caught the face staring at her.

For a moment or two, she thought it had something to do with the fact that JR Chandler's son was dead, something that the press was still throwing around in joy and splashing across their front to sell more papers. And then she realized that JR's name was mentioned only as a tease to the real story, the story of the woman whose face was splashed across it's front.

It was an odd feeling, what came over her next, a came of chilly emptiness that filled her as she stared dully at the color photo of Dixie Cooney, at the words that proudly displayed that JR Chandler had lost his son and gained back his mother. She ripped the paper open, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, eyes latching onto the black and white grainy photos of the Chandler heir and Dixie Cooney going between plane and limo.

She panicked, lost it, and found herself running for the elevator before she knew it, her heels clicking quickly across the fine floors and breathing heavily as she drove her finger into the button over and over again. Not caring that she was leaving Simone and Dani alone to work, she simply left, wearing only a tiny dress and her heels as she flung herself into her car and sped off.

* * *

He supposed he should have known, when Joe had offered him a day off, that there was something off. Still, at least he'd had something strong at hand when he'd accidentally stopped on the show with Dixie's 'resurrection'. He'd stood there and watched the screen, remote limp in his hand, listening dully to the miracle.

It was so fucking perfect, wasn't it? Tad Martin got back his wife—or would that be ex-wife?—and his little girl and what happens to him? He loses his kid and his oh-so-loyal Anna runs off to the City of fucking Lights… what, was Martin some fucking saint in some past life?

Now, sitting behind his desk, he soaked himself in any alcohol he could find, and if there had been a cliff nearby, he most likely would have drained his current Scotch and stepped off it, one last final 'fuck-you' to the world. Or, hey, how about he commit a very messy suicide on Martin's car, a very nice gesture to the bastard who had no fucking idea how lucky he was?

Why did he get to be happy, why did he have everyone he wanted, people who loved him and cared and people who fought over who got to love him? Nobody had ever fought over David, not really and he could remember all too well how many times he'd been standing behind his mother while she snapped for one of the maids to take care of the brat.

He coughed, pausing in his drinking just long enough to get control of his breathing before going back to his binge, the only thing he had left to do these days. That's what he did now, he drank and he played with people's hearts and he drank some more and then he woke up in the middle of the night, cracked open another bottle and drank some more because what else did he do now, right?

Some part of him wanted to go see Dixie, just see with his own eyes and see her little girl and tell her how happy he was that she and her little girl were fine and okay. And he was, shockingly enough, happy for JR Chandler. He didn't like the younger man and the feeling was entirely mutual but he knew, all too well, what Dixie's son was going through and for that he was grateful that JR had his mother back.

Nobody deserved to go through that hell alone…

And here he was, wanting to check on Dixie and see that she truly was back but the other part, the part that was slowly becoming harder and harder to control and keep quiet? That part yearned to run to Fusion, tell her that he needed someone to talk to, to care about, someone who could take care of him because it was getting too hard to take care of himself.

He wanted Greenlee, wanted to track her down and beg her to help him and he studied the liquid in his glass, watching it slosh over the edge as he poured more, watched the way it finally stilled and, balancing himself carefully, he levered himself to his feet, swaying for a moment before getting a hold of himself and his limbs.

Getting to the door, he paused for a moment before turning to lean his back against it and, with a grimace, he slid down to the floor, feeling his shirt catch and ride up and feeling his bare back against the door; he slouched there for a few long moments, setting his glass to his side and dropping his hands to his lap with a noise of exhaustion.

And then he heard the footsteps and he grinned to himself, chuckling at the sound her recognized so easily, knowing the sound of those heels outside his door and remembering how many times he had heard them when Leora was alive, when she'd come over and steal some time with her lost-love's namesake, spend time with his daughter and sneak back out after an hour of careful cuddling.

He'd never forget how good she had looked, how she had looked so perfect with Leora's small form settled into her arms, the face buried in her neck and her hand smoothing up and down the back and how beautiful Greenlee had looked when she smiled because she'd always smiled with Leora. Just seeing the little girl would make her smile and holding her?

Oh, god, Greenlee had glowed…

When she knocked, fast and light, he sighed, laying his head back against the door and swallowing, listening for her voice and loving it when it came through the door, a muffled, lovely sound rich with worry for him. "David… let me in… I know you're in there, probably drunk out of your mind and I want you to let me in."

He obeyed with a broad grin, reaching up and unlocking the door and then dropping top the side, leaning off to the side and muttering darkly when she flung the door open and it caught him in the thigh painfully, probably bruising the skin but he didn't do anything but stare up at her, noting how amazingly tall she looked from down where he was.

She was a small, well-built woman but even a small woman like her looked huge from where was laying/sitting. She stared right back, paper rolled up in her fist and regarding him with a quiet sadness in her deep brown eyes. When she crouched, settling just enough not to fall on her ass, he grinned at her and she sighed, quietly, softly.

"You're drunk, David."

Another grin, even broader and more excited, even more savagely amused and she shook her head, her long hair rippling and he reached up, pushing it from her face and mumbling, "You should keep your hair back sometimes. You've got such a pretty face… does Ryass think you should hide you face?" He cocked his head, wriggled his eyebrows. "I could slip him something."

"Ugh…" She got a hold of his arm and the touch was raw, and so intense and juts the feel of her hand through his shirt made him shudder slightly, limp as she pulled him away from the wall and up slightly. "Son of a…"

"Yes," he mumbled with an air of mocking. Aware of her mutters as she continued to pull on him, attempting to get him on his feet, because she sure as hell couldn't carry him, could she? "Yes, yes, Greenlee, you are very correct in your assumption about my maternity… Vanessa was a bitch and I am, therefore, a son of a bitch… however, technically, you would be a daughter of a bitch because you and I both know how lovely a girly your mommy is…"

He stopped, blinking at her stomach, wondering how he had gotten there. With a frown, he contemplated what it felt like to be laying on his front half, with Greenlee sprawled out beneath him, one heel broken and muttering and swearing as she attempted to pull him of her and onto his feet. "You're not very good at this," he chuckled and she swore more savagely, getting her ass off the floor and shoving him onto his knees more.

With a grin, he dropped his face onto her stomach and inhaled the scent there, the scent that he had tried so hard to wrap himself in before she'd bolted away. He'd have very much preferred there not to have been any clothe between his face and her skin at the moment but, eh, he'd take what he could get at the moment and this was indeed wonderful.

* * *

Feeling his warm breath through her dress was making her body react in some very bad ways and she was only barely able to keep from falling and humping his leg at the moment, pressing herself against him, her breasts and stomach against his chest and his arms tight around her. Greenlee had never humped a leg before but, at the moment, it was such an exciting idea that it nearly knocked her down to her ass again.

David could hold his liquor, she knew he could and she had seen him beyond drunk too many times to count. Each time, though, he'd been able to take care of himself in some small way. She hated the thought of how alcohol he must have in him to make him act like this, mumbling words into her belly that made her want to shiver in pleasure and let himself be dragged around.

Grunting, Greenlee paused, shifting her hands up his back, to hold him beneath the shoulder, heft him more as she kicked off her heels and instantly found her balance a hundred times better, even if she did lose whatever height she had. He wasn't even trying to help her but, really, could she at all blame him?

She began moving again, one shaky step at a time, and then went stock-still in mid-step, heel lifted and the ball of her foot flat on the ground of the cabin as she considered this newest touch and how it felt to have his hand on her ass like this. Wasn't bad, not really, but something about it made her grimace, knowing full well that it had not been a move he had meant to do.

When David Hayward decided to touch a woman's ass, she had no doubt that he knew how to make it a hell of a touch and this one felt rather flat. The thought, of course, was rather irritating as she considered the thought of David's hand on some other woman's ass. She could see it now, like some SNL skit almost, the dumb blonde nurse with the garters and the massive rack and the gooey gaze.

Not worrying about the hand on her backside, she started back up her movements, dragging him through what should have been a small room, what was usually a small room. Entering the bedroom proved to be a hard thing on her, especially when her eyes settled on the bed where they had been tangled up together for hours, frenzied lovemaking sessions that had become even better each time around, deeper almost.

Thankfully, his bed wasn't high and she dropped back, holding him up as she did and trying to keep him form falling on her… she failed and found her breathing coming harsher when his head dropped to her chest. Once again, she had no doubt in her mind that it was an accident but the feel of his breath coming against her breasts proved to be almost too much for her.

She was shaking, all of her and was shockingly, painfully aware of the heartbeat that had started up between her legs, of the steady heat filling her stomach and her lower half, and, shit, she couldn't remember the last she'd reacted this quickly to something like this, not in the foggiest.

And, shit, was this a reaction…

"David…" she stopped at the hoarseness of her voice, clearing her throat before trying again. "David… get off… get up… I need you to get up…" His only response was a muffled groan, that of a man not enjoying being so useless but no doubt enjoying the convenient position he had found himself in.

Oh shit… she needed to get him up and off and get herself calmed down enough to take care of him and get some coffee into him… and she couldn't do that when she was reacting like this to nothing but his breath in this wonderful spot he had paid so much attention to that night.

It was with a sudden surge of strength that she managed to get him onto the bed, grunting as she pushed him up forcefully ad then flopping in exhaustion to the side of the doctor, groaning quietly but stopping when she heard him talking as he rolled and crawled up, collapsing in a weight of drunken depressed male.

"Greenlee, Greenlee," he mumbled into the pillow and she rolled her eyes before going back to her problem…getting over her excitement that dragging David into the bedroom had given her… would David mind if she used his shower?


	8. Consideration

_**Selfless**_

_Eight – Consideration _

_It's another lonely evening  
And another lonely town  
But I ain't too young to worry  
And I ain't too old to cry  
When a woman gets me down._

_Got another empty bottle  
And another empty bed  
Ain't too young to admit it  
And I'm not too old to lie  
I'm just another empty head._ _That's why I'm lonely  
I'm so lonely_

_**-** AC/DC, "Ride On"_

* * *

Some small and very bad part of her was obsessed with the idea of David slipping into the shower while she was in there and she ended up stepping out twice, peeking into the bedroom where the doctor lay in a completely pathetic state. Finally, though, she'd found herself suitably cleaned up and had tip-toed through the bedroom to search for anything she could wear.

David kept towels and robes everywhere in and near the bathroom, something she was pathetically thankful for as she'd yanked on the biggest and thickest one she could find and wrapped a ridiculously large towel around her hair, wearing it like a beehive as she watched him warily, listening to his breathing for long moments before heading across the room.

Her dress wasn't dirty exactly but she hated putting something on that she'd already worn and, while she had tried to put it on to avoid any crap, she'd taken it off very quickly, flinging it away. She'd never looked into David's closet before and found herself strangely fascinated by the sight of his clothes.

It wasn't that big a deal, not really, and yet it was. These were David's clothes, the things he wore, and she shot him a nervous look before stepping closer to the closet, peering in with a sudden giddiness, feeling oddly enthralled by the sight of his shirts stretching before her, a line of dark fabric; blues and grays and blacks and she reached out, caressing a sleeve of dark blue-green cloth.

It was soft beneath her fingertips and she enjoyed it, rubbing it between fingers and then casting David another nervous glance. He was out cold and it was clear but still, what if he decided that he didn't women who went through his closet and rated his clothes? And, hello, why did the married woman care about his clothes?

Raising the sleeve, she pressed it to her face and inhaled. It was freshly washed and it depressed her that there was no pleasant scent of David there, what she had been wrapped in the night for hours. Still, there was a hint of something there that had nothing to do with detergent or soap and she focused on it, focused on that hint of something so deeply that she could almost taste him.

She studied the shirt for a moment, dropped the sleeve before moving onto the next, a dark gray shirt that she remembered him wearing about a month before. She had stood under cold water and calmed herself down after all that and here she was, getting all hot and heavy over his shirts.

Jesus, how pathetic was she?

Moving away from his clothes forcefully, she studied him, cocking her head as she contemplated how he looked splayed out on his stomach, face mashed down, and arms beneath the pillow. Very few men had ever affected her like this and it had her baffled, had her confused as to why he made her so damn squirmy.

He wasn't the most amazingly built man ever, not really and she bit her lip, fingers itching to slide along his wrists and up his arms. He was a darker build than she was used to, warm brown skin that was as warm as it looked. Greenlee's eyes found his arm, found a spot of bare skin and she swallowed, fingers knowing full well how that spot felt.

He was hairy too and how often did she always whine about hairy men, whining that it was annoying and irritating and made her want to shove them in a vat of hot wax? Now, here she was, getting all hot and bothered by a forty-something year old who did things to her body with his eyes and his grin that made her breath come in whimpers and heat to rush through her like liquid fire.

David was drunk, completely dead to the world and here she was, staring at him like he was piece of meat, body reacting to feelings that had happened weeks before and were forever etched clearly into her mind, touches and contacts that made her body ignite as she stood there, shaking slightly.

With a quiet, pained groan, she fled the bedroom, seeking something to eat other than David… who tasted really, really good, by the way…

* * *

Vanessa had never hidden her affairs, not even from her child and David had learned the truth about the birds and the bees at an all too young age. At least his father had attempted to keep his son away from Vanessa's affairs, attempted to keep his son from knowing about his own female friends.

Charles hadn't done enough, not nearly, but he had tried and given up a few minutes from his work to see his son. No, not even near to close to enough for David but with no one else and nothing else, it had been all he'd had, a few precious moments every few weeks of half-hearted caring that had been the only light in his otherwise empty and hollow childhood.

And then his father had been gone, and he hated how Vanessa had pulled him round the wake, had yanked him around and coddled him, playing the grieving widow to a T and managed to play the doting mother just as well to the crowd she would gather. And he'd been stuck at her side, in a piece of crap suit that he hated.

Black suit and white shirt and, god, he'd hated that suit, hated how it hung on him, tight and smothering and how much his fingers had tugged at the black tie, smacked away by his mother whenever she spotted him trying to loosen it. She hadn't cared at all that his father was that cold body lying in that wooden box and had refused to let him leave her and her little group and see the body that he had felt grow cold.

He'd never hated her more than when she went up there and broke down, crocodile tears rolling down that heartless face. Vanessa had always been a good actress and he never forgot it, never forgot what it felt like to see someone he despised like that acting like she was worthy of sympathy, worthy of respect.

She was worthless, heartless and he hated that, in that moment, all he had wanted was for her to take him in her arms and tell him that everything would be fine. David had many bad memories; he had many things that he wished he could forget but he had found that the same memory that he hated so much had helped him save too many lives to count.

Talk about a cosmic joke…

His mind, a carefully constructed place that he held so carefully, that he fought to keep closed and still, was once again preying on him, an insidious presence that he could feel in his alcohol-drenched state but couldn't quite place and, shifting, he turned away from something that moved at his side, something that rocked the whatever it was that he was laying on at the moment.

His head ached and he took it in stride, knowing it wasn't fatal, and that it just felt like it at the moment and his fingers curved inward, tightening up in a fist as he shifted again, away from the heat and found it following him, making the whatever it was beneath him move even more than before.

He wanted it, he did, but why bother? He'd wanted to save his father and he was all too aware of how well that attempt had been, how useless he had proved himself to be while his father grew cold. The voice talking to him wasn't helping and he absently noted that, even though he always loved Greenlee's voice, it wasn't all that nice on a drunken mind.

And then the movements stopped, stilled and he relaxed into the bed—_yeah, it was a bed, wasn't it?_—letting out his breath in a grunt and then listening to her move around, in a half-aware state of consciousness, wishing he could pull her into the bed and knowing, at the same time, that there was no point.

Lavery didn't make her happy and he knew it, even when she'd pouted and giggled and ran her hands up and down his arms, insisting that Leo had sent her this great love with Ryan Lavery and David didn't believe it, not for a single second, because he knew when she was lying, even if it was only to herself.

Leo would never have sent her someone like Lavery, someone who was still in love with some other woman and couldn't handle the fact that that other woman could love in such a terrifying way and, god, Leo would never have done that, not to Greenlee. He had known her, he had known her before anyone else had, even when David had first noticed her in a purely 'man-as-pig' state.

Thinking hurt and here he was, thinking about jumbled pieces of his life, things that he knew could fit together and work if he could just do it all right, if he could figure out everything the way he had figured out that if he could just keep all the blood in, his father would be fine and he had figured out that, if Leora had survived, she would have been calling Greenlee something other than Greenlee…

Everything was wrong, all wrong and he was acutely aware of the fact that he was beyond drunk and still thinking like a depressed doctor who spent all his time drowning himself in alcohol and surviving on memories of his few hours with his dead brother's wife and, god, how could he have done this to Leo?

He groaned, turning away from the sounds of her, rolling away and pressing his face into the pillow, trying to sink into a deep enough state to work everything that hurt like this out of his head. She'd be on Lavery's arm tonight, draped up like a toy that he shook in Hart's face, taunting how 'happy' he was.

They were both miserable, and he could see it all too easily. It was a sham of a marriage, something they had pieced together, Lavery because he couldn't be a big brave boy and her because she just had to win her little game with Kendall… had she even thought about him, about how he would feel when he found out?

No… of course not… he was just the brother-in-law who would commit felonies for her…

* * *

David's cabin held the bare essentials when it came to nourishment and, while some feminine part of her cringed inwardly at the emptiness of his cupboards and fridge, she had long since learned that nothing could keep this man fully stocked in anything other than dry cereal, skim milk, frozen dinners and Scotch.

That, apparently, was what he survived on, begging the question of whether or not he was actually human.

This was the same man who ate his cereal out of a coffee mug and insisted that cereal bowls and all those other 'dorky' little bowls were useless when it came to actually eating the food. Of course, he was correct—_damn it all to hell, by the way_—but that didn't mean she ever had agreed with him.

She had been raised as a Greenlee and had been taught that every single extra spoon, fork, knife, bowl and other idiotic little thing had to be used because she was a Greenlee and that's what you did as a Greenlee… now, even with how much she hated such idiocies, she found she was still stuck on the concept.

How the hell had David worked the brainwashing from his head, anyway?

Sighing, turning away from the cupboards, Greenlee began to pick her way through the fridge, leaving the kitchen when she found nothing but old Chinese food that seemed to be growling at her threateningly in warning. Hands still tingling from the feel of his skin, warm under her fingers and palms, she burrowed more deeply into her warm robe, shuffling into the living room and stopping as she considered his desk.

Despite the overall organization of everything in his life, especially his work, there was a bit of a mess on his desk, something that piqued her curiosity ad she studied the desk with more interest, circling around it as her eyes skimmed over a notebook filled with that itty-bitty writing of his that she could never understand and several files, each unmarked and shut with a paper-clip.

It was utterly fascinating in a way that she couldn't quite understand and she bit her lip, shifting one foot and glancing at the door that led to his bedroom, where they had spent those hours laying together, for hours, finding anything they could to get themselves feeling anything other than that emptiness that had taken over their lives.

She studied his writing, regarded it thoughtfully and then dragged a finger down a page, shaking her head as she came to a very strong, very sure decision, and finally came to regard it as more than a simple thought that refused to leave her alone.

She didn't want to go home to her husband; she didn't want to go home to Ryan. She didn't want to go to the fucking casino to watch Ryan go for Kendall and to get Kendall away from evil Zach Slater, who was apparently completely evil and was out just to make Kendall suffer.

Ryan wanted Kendall back when she didn't want him anymore, just like some little kid who got rid of toy because it was boring or old but then decided that he wanted it back when someone else got interested in it. Greenlee didn't want him, didn't want him to ever put his hands on her again… she didn't think she'd be able to handle it.

She got more joy out of being snarked at by David than ever in her marriage to Ryan and that had to mean something, didn't it?

Five minutes later, she was calling up her husband and telling him to go on alone, that she was busy tonight and had work to do and to go out and enjoy himself… the only way she was going to the casino tonight was if she was going with David at her side… for the first time in years, she felt like a heartless, nasty bitch and it was indeed a wonderful feeling.


	9. Why

**_Selfless_**

_Nine – Why_

_They say love keeps on growing  
It's the one thing that I've felt I've always known  
Cause it wouldn't matter where you're going  
Cause where you are is where I wanna go _

I know why the heart gets lonely  
Every time you give your love away  
And if you think that you are only  
A shadow in the wind  
Rolling round but when you go and let somebody in  
They might fade away

Tell me why the road keeps turning  
When everything you want is straight ahead  
And every thing I thought worth learning  
Is forgotten when I see your face instead

_- Sheryl Crow, "I Know Why"_

* * *

"_You didn't have to get this."_

_Leo, flopped out on the couch, just grinned, absolutely loving the stunned look in David's eyes and loving that he had shocked him this well with just the gift. When he had promised to replace it, they had both known better than to hope that the younger man would be able to remember what it was he was supposed to do anyway._

_Leo himself had no idea how he had remembered but he had and the look when David had unwrapped it had been more than he could hope for. Leaning forward, he stood, stretching arms over his head as he nodded to the record. "The guy said it was some special edition… something about it never being played and all."_

"_Jesus, Leo… it wasn't worth all that much."_

"_Well, if you don't want it…" When he took a step forward, the doctor actually scrambled away, shooting his younger brother a lethal look. Stomping down the ridiculous urge to giggle, Leo wiped his mouth hard, hoping it wiped away the grin. "Okay then… I brought it for you and it's a gift. I don't want you to pull any 'this is too much' or 'I didn't really need it' crap."_

_Dark eyes met his and he lifted an eyebrow in quiet amusement. "I saw you face when I scratched it, David. You looked like you wanted to cry and, I swear to God, your lip was beginning to quiver. Now what kind of brother would leave a surgeon to suffer like that when he has the money to make it up to him?"_

"_I've got the money, Leo, you know I'm never exactly lacking in funds… I could have brought a new one…"_

"_Yeah, but I'm the one that messed up the old one. Look, I know you love it, I can tell by the look on your face but please don't ruin it by doing any of those things you do all the time. Please, okay, don't ruin the moment." He reached out, tapped a finger very lightly on the pristine record and smiled lightly. "This is for you, my gift for you… no strings, okay, just me trying to be a good brother."_

_David shot him a look, an odd something in the back of his gaze and then, abruptly, he looked away again, clearing his throat. Leo had gotten to those times, when he suddenly jerked away and, although they were getting rarer, they still popped up every so often. "You don't have to worry about that… you've got the 'good brother' thing down."_

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"Autumn glanced over at the other girl, shooting her a disgusted look and then proceeded to shove the key into the ignition, starting up her father's car with a flourish. Revving it, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, nodding to herself as she flicked at strands of her dark hair. 

Satisfied for the moment, she adjusted it, rolling her shoulders before, grinning, she pulled out of the garage, noting how easy it was for the fifteenth time. Between buying more clothes for Mom and pulling strings, Daddy really didn't care if Autumn took his car out because, really, he never noticed it was gone.

She took the turn out of the Taber estate with a quick spin of the wheel and, ignoring the yelp of pain from the backseat, not to mention the sound of a head cracking a door full-force, she slammed her foot down on the gas, heart jumping into her throat when the car shot forward, a blur of shiny black steel.

It was always easy enough to rope the other two girls into one of these drives, and she knew exactly which buttons to push and strings to pull to get her way with the others. Moreover, she was worth way more money and everybody in town knew it. Sure, the Tabers may not be up the Chandler or Cortlandt standards but they were still pretty damn rich and weren't afraid to show it.

Most nights, when she could get out of the house, were spent somewhere nobody would find her, with people who didn't know her and didn't care that they didn't know her, only that she was there and open to suggestions. She'd long since grown tired of that, except for those special circumstances that popped up every so often, and found that this kind of speed was truly a rush.

"Maybe you should slow down, Autumn."

Looking up, she met the blonde's eyes calmly, cocking an eyebrow in challenge before, with a smirk, she increased her speed even more, exploding out of the roads and into the traffic, skin heating at the explosion of horns and angry screams that greeted her appearance, along with a shriek of tires somewhere right behind her.

Nobody made an entrance like Autumn Taber.

Pushing her speed as far as she could, she swept up and into the highway, swerving into the main lain and, with a smirk on her face, she glanced at the girl in the passenger seat, cocking that eyebrow again in smug delight. "What were you two saying about me and my speed?"

They exchanged looks of weary wariness that made her clench her jaw and look back at the expense of not-so open road stretching out before her. They were pathetic, too afraid to do anything other than follow her around like she was a little leader… which she was, of course, but that wasn't the point.

She needed intellectual equals.

Emotion wasn't something she liked and there it came again, that damn flood of something she didn't like, hated in fact, and couldn't quite put a name to, despite her best tries to identify it. However, she knew full well that she hated it and wished, more than anything, that it would stop popping up every few minutes.

And, like always, after that weird something came the anger, something thick and ugly that, when she caught her reflection in the mirror, filled her eyes and made them look even darker than they were usually. It choked her and she drew in a sharp breath, almost light-headed with the force that had ripped it out of her body in the first place.

"Autumn—"

"Shut up!" she snapped, not quite sure why she was so angry but knowing that she was and intending to do something about it. When her eyes caught sight of the other car, turning, there was a rush of something, a sudden explosion of giddiness somewhere inside her and, making a short, breathless noise in her throat, she gripped the steering wheel with a viselike force, straightened and proceeded to slam full force into the passenger side of the Corvette stupid enough to be crossing in front of her.

* * *

For the second time that day, Greenlee found herself making a beeline for the closet in David's bedroom, leaving the coffee on the bedside table and simply gazing into the closet with brown eyes, catching her lip between her teeth and chewing for a few moments before giving in. 

There were the shirts that she had the insane urge to pull on, just because, and a couple of his suits, all well-made and expensive but not at all overly rich looking, something most of the men she had grown up with had never been able to really achieve. Reaching up, she rubbed her face with the heel of her hand before parting the shirts, looking for anything that might hold her interest.

Fat, it seemed, was going to laugh at her and she found her eyes glued to the box in the right corner of the closet, far in the back and sitting there, simply letting its presence be known fearlessly. She glanced back at David, contemplating. If there was one thing David would understand, it would be the art of the always important scouting mission.

They were both good at getting the dirt on people who pissed them off and, while it had been a while since Greenlee had felt any real urge to fall back into old, familiar habits, she felt that urge now, a strangely exciting blend of nostalgia at those precious memories of spying to get her way and embarrassment that she had so long denied the inner working of the Greenlee Smythe mind.

Quietly, crouching, she grabbed the box and dragged it out, shooting one last look at David. He stirred, very lightly, the smallest bit and she looked back at the box, a deep cardboard container with a flip-down lid and a piece of masking tape across the top. She couldn't identify what it said, the Sharpie marker was too old for that but it caused yet another flick of giddy curiosity to light up in her.

Deciding that David had to be dead drunk, and sincerely hoping he was, she pushed open the top, shifting how she sat to let the light reach it and then frowning as she stared at what had to dozens of records, raising her eyebrows as she stared at the first fading name, some old Eric Clapton thing… whoever the hell he was.

She was half-way through, and on an old copy of something from the Eagles, when she finally realized what this meant.

She found herself grinning like an idiot when she turned and glanced at him again, sitting forward on her knees to catch sight of his face. She could just barely see it but she could and it made her, if anything, grin with even more childish glee, fingers still holding her place through the vinyl records.

David was a music fan.

With renewed vigor, she went back to her study, giving each a sure once-over before going to another. She was mildly impressed by several finds from the Doors and the small but impressive collection of Bob Dylan classics made her smile slightly in real pleasure, something she hadn't felt in a while.

Any worry she might have had fled when she found the Stones, in the back but still clearly important. Greenlee was no real classics fan, not really, but she was also an ever loyal fan of the Stones and, while she might go to long lengths to keep others from finding out that she had more than a few times snuck out of her house as a teenager to go to concert, she was grateful to see David did, indeed, have a taste for the finest.

Finding out what Ryan thought of Mick Jagger—his exact words had been, "He's that guy with the weird lips, right?"—had proved to be the moment Greenlee had realized how easy it would be to beat him over the head with one of the candles on the mantle, dump his body in the mines and flee to become one of Mick's many groupies.

The rest of that day had been spent taunting Kendall with her wedding ring but, still, the bad taste of Ryan's musical bad taste lingered even now.

Frowning suddenly, she stopped, noticing the still wrapped record in the back and, making room with the others, she studied it intently, rubbing a thumbnail along it thoughtfully. There were others there, two or three from this same guy but this one was still carefully wrapped and, with a sudden odd something in her chest, she laid it back against the back of the box, letting the other records cover it again.

She at there, staring at the collection for long moments before she heard a shift of movement, jerking around to peer at her dead husband's brother and simply froze there, silent and still, picking her way through thoughts and memories and putting some of them into the back of her mind.

On some level, she was confused, confused by a lot of things, especially the fact that, hey, this was her dead husband's brother. Except, going with that, he was the only one in the town who really understood that at all, fully grasped just what it was she and her husband had shared and continued to share even if Leo was gone, far gone now.

Shoving the box back into the back, she fiddled with the contents of the closet, checking it twice before turning and heading back to the bed, wondering how much coffee he might need to do anything other than grunt under his breath. Besides, all she wanted was to have a little talk with him and then, if he wanted, he could fall back into the drunken haze.

_

* * *

AN: A few notes on this chapter that you had to wait so long for. First, I went through three full rewrites of this chapter, if anyone's curious and each of the others didn't seem to flow right for me. Even this one doesn't really click completely for me but it goes a lot better than the other versions. _

_Also, there was a song suggestion—you know who you are, my friend—and, at first, I was just gonna include the lyrics. However, upon further thought—and with the help of several packs of Pop Rocks—I came up with a way to use the song as a connection to several other aspects. Some of you probably have some idea of where I'm going with this and it will be coming back a few times._

_Anyway, I need some in-depth thoughts on a few aspects of this from my reviewers and I'm counting on you. I know how the big face-off will be written but feedback is needed and I hope that it will be provided. So, in conclusion, I'm looking for reviews, feedback, pokes with the constructive criticism stick and anything else offered up. Thank you and stay patient for the next update, which should be, if RL permits it, more quickly coming._


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